


On the Balcony

by firethesound



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Praise Kink, Outdoor Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10315952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/pseuds/firethesound
Summary: Life had been hectic for both of them lately, and Harry was looking forward to a quiet evening at home. Having a romantic dinner on the balcony of their flat sounded like just the thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/gifts).



> Written for [birdsofshore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsofshore/pseuds/birdsofshore)'s [Anywhere but the Bed](http://birdsofshore.livejournal.com/152481.html) comment fest over on Livejournal.
> 
> Not beta read and minimally edited.

The schedule of an Auror trainee was enormously demanding. Harry had expected that from the very beginning. He’d expected to lose sleep, and to spend all of his waking hours either in classes or shadowing various Department of Magical Law Enforcement workers to learn procedure and how things worked, and to spend nearly every second of his precious free time studying. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to maintain his friendships as closely as he’d like, and now in the second year of his training, he barely even got to see Ron, and Ron was a fellow trainee.

This was inarguably the very worst time he could have picked to start a relationship.

So naturally, that was when Harry fell in love with Draco, and they decided to take their relationship from friendship to romance.

To complicate matters, Draco was in training to become a Healer, and his training program was every bit as rigorous as Harry’s. They’d moved in together after just a couple of months, more to be able to see each other than because they’d reached that point in their relationship. And yeah, they’d probably rushed into it a bit, but somehow it hadn’t blown up in their faces.

Their whole relationship so far had been difficult, but they’d made it work. And in a few months, Harry would make Junior Auror and his schedule wouldn’t be quite so hectic. And after Draco finished his training the year after and became an Apprentice Healer, things would get so much easier. They’d both have demanding jobs, and they’d both have to work strange hours sometimes, and there would still be stretches of days where they barely saw each other. But if they could get through training, they’d definitely be able to make the rest of it work out just fine.

At the beginning of every semester, Harry and Draco sat down with their course schedules and their assigned work hours, and figured out where the little free time that each of them had would line up. Those times got marked on the calendar tacked to the wall of the kitchen that barely got used for anything more complicated than coffee and tea and toast. Mostly they managed breakfast or dinner together, and they had a lot of what Draco had termed “study dates” which were basically them sitting at their dining room table, ignoring each other in favor of their textbooks and practice tests and lecture notes. But they were together, and they took turns making each other tea, and every so often they’d take a little break for some snogging, and it was mostly pretty nice.

But Harry really looked forward to the rare occasions where they each had a stretch of hours free and no pressing obligations or looming examinations with which to fill them. Those days got circled in red on their calendar, and they took turns coming up with date ideas for them.

The last couple of months had been particularly difficult. Harry had been putting in hours with MLEP’s night shift, and when he went back to days, Draco was assigned nights on the Spell Damage floor. For weeks on end, the most time they spent together was one of them coming home very early in the morning and collapsing into bed to enjoy an hour or so of cuddling before the other had to get up to leave for work.

But as of yesterday, they were back on the same sleep schedule, and as of today (after a careful dose of sleep potions and about 16 hours passed out in bed) Draco was more-or-less back to himself. Harry’d had a full day of work, and Draco’d had an afternoon lecture to attend, but this evening they were both free.

Today had been circled in red ink on their calendar, and Harry had been looking forward to it for weeks.

It was his night to plan a date, and while he didn’t think that either of them would be up for anything involving too much effort, it was the thought that really mattered. Harry had ordered takeaway from Draco’s favorite Italian restaurant, and then set the little wrought iron bistro set on their balcony with a white lace tablecloth and their good china and a single rose in a crystal bud vase and a couple of tall white candles in the fancy silver candlesticks Draco had got from his mum. He’d plated the takeaway neatly, polished two sets of silver cutlery for them to use, and even dug out the white linen napkins. The weather was perfect, only just cool enough that they wouldn’t need any charms to keep themselves warm, and Draco would be home in time for them to watch the sunset as they ate.

Harry felt a little flutter of pride well up in his chest as he stood back and surveyed the scene he’d set. Perfect. This would be wonderfully romantic.

Or, it would have been romantic, but Draco wouldn’t stop trying to put his hand down Harry’s trousers.

“Stop it!” Harry hissed at him, pushing his hand away and sneaking a glance over at the next balcony from theirs where Mrs Calloway was obliviously watering her geraniums.

Draco withdrew his hand from beneath the flimsy cover of Harry’s napkin, lower lip jutting out in a pout, and Harry sighed and spooned another bite of custard into his mouth. He’d actually made it himself, because custard wasn’t too hard, it was just mixing eggs and milk and sugar and vanilla together and sticking it in the oven. He’d made up two little ramekins of it, and garnished each one with a dab of whipped cream and half a strawberry.

Really, he supposed he ought to be grateful that Draco had let them get through dinner before he started with the groping. He’d skipped lunch today, and when Draco was hungry he ate with a single-minded sort of focus. Harry had talked a little bit about his day, his classes, the little bits of Weasley family news he’d picked up from Ron, and Draco had made appropriate ‘mm-hm’ noises through his full mouth.

But now with the worst of his hunger sated, he seemed to have decided that waiting five bloody minutes for them to finish dessert was simply too much.

“This was supposed to be romantic, you know,” Harry told him.

Draco blinked at him. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“You’re trying to get your hand on my cock.” Harry glanced over his shoulder, but Mrs Calloway didn’t seem to have overheard.

“Is there a difference?” Draco asked. He ate another bite of custard, practically fellating his spoon in the process.

“This is the first time in months we’ve really had time to sit down like this,” Harry said. “Don’t you want to, I don’t know, tell me about your day or something?”

Draco arched an eyebrow at that. “I’m assigned to the Infectious Diseases ward right now, but if you’d like to hear about the patient with Spattergroit I treated, I can give you as much detail as you like. I had the pleasure of draining her pustules.” He paused and poked his spoon at the remains of his dessert. “It looked rather like this, in fact.” 

Suddenly the custard didn’t seem nearly so appealing. Harry nudged the ramekin away still half-full. “Thanks for that.”

Draco only smirked and scooped up another spoonful. “You asked,” he said, and popped the spoonful into his mouth with no hesitation whatsoever.

“I did not.”

“You did so,” Draco said, and went for Harry’s trousers again.

Harry whacked him across the knuckles with his spoon.

“Orgasms,” Draco said, entirely too loud considering that most of the neighborhood had their windows open to let in the lovely late-spring air, and Mrs Calloway was still right bloody there. “I want to give you orgasms. Why are you resisting me?”

“Because we are in public,” Harry said. “And anyone could see us!”

“Excellent point,” Draco said. He stood up and swished his wand and the table cleared, their plates and cutlery clinking gently against each other as they streamed into the house, the tablecloth and napkins folding themselves up, the candles extinguishing themselves, the bud vase bringing up the rear as they all vanished into the house. Draco snagged the rose, tucked it behind his ear, and winked at Harry, then swished his wand again and the table shifted several feet back, leaving Harry sitting all alone in his chair.

“Disillusion us,” he said.

Harry, who’d assumed they’d go into the house now, blinked up at him and said, “What?”

“You’re better at it than I am. Put that Auror training to good use.”

“You mean good use besides giving me the skills I’ll need to help keep the general public safe?”

“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Disillusion us. Unless you’d like to give the neighbors a show.”

And then it clicked what Draco meant to do.

“Oh my god, Draco. No. We’ve got a perfectly good bed. It’s right in there.” Harry pointed. “We can go there right now.”

They stared at each other.

Then Draco shrugged. “Fine,” he said, and began undoing his trousers.

Harry paused, uncertain, because Draco was only bluffing, wasn’t he? But no. He wasn’t. Draco finished unbuttoning his trousers and pushed them right down without any sign of hesitation or shame. He wasn’t wearing any pants, it turned out, and when Draco bent over to pull the cuffs of his trousers over his feet, Harry belatedly leapt into action, fumbling for his wand and casting the most desperate Disillusionment Charm of his life.

He was just in time.

Harry saved Mrs Calloway from getting an eyeful of Draco’s lily-white arse by mere seconds. She came bustling back out onto her balcony, broom in hand, and began sweeping. On the street below them, someone called out, someone else answered, and a wireless switched on to the evening news. They were practically surrounded by people, all going about their evening routines just like everything was perfectly normal.

And then here was Draco on their balcony, half-hard and half-naked, with Harry’s hastily-cast Disillusionment Charm all that was standing between him and an arrest for indecent exposure.

“Have you gone mad?” Harry whispered as loud as he dared. Disillusionment Charms didn’t work for sound, and Mrs Calloway was close enough that Harry could hear her humming as she swept.

Draco only cocked an eyebrow at him. Then he smirked and also cocked his hip, drawing Harry’s attention to his—

“You’re mad,” Harry whispered again, knowing full-well that he was about to have sex out here on the balcony in broad daylight. Well, twilight. Enough light to be seen by, and god Harry hoped his Disillusionment Charm would hold.

“Mad about you, maybe,” Draco whispered back, advancing on Harry. He stopped right in front Harry, and nudged his knee against the inside of Harry’s, encouraging him to spread his legs. “Are you going to take your trousers off?”

Harry’s hands were already undoing his belt before he could stop to think about it.

“Good boy,” Draco said, smirking, and Harry’s cock gave a very enthusiastic twitch at that. Of course Draco noticed, and his smirk grew. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He swept his hand tenderly through Harry’s hair.

Harry managed half a scowl at that, because Draco bloody well knew that Harry liked that. But with Draco’s fingers rubbing lightly at his scalp, Harry was having a hard time working up the presence of mind to care.

Draco kept it up for a few more seconds, then his fingers went still and his knee nudged at Harry’s again.

“Forget what you were doing?”

Harry lifted his arse off the chair and yanked his trousers down past his knees, and barely had time to sit back down again before Draco was on him. He looped his arms around the back of Harry’s neck and leaned in for a kiss. He obediently opened up for him, and Draco tasted like a weird mix of the sweet custard and the garlic rolls he’d eaten with dinner. It probably should have been unappealing, but fuck Draco was good at kissing, and Harry sort of lost himself in it, the press of Draco’s tongue against his own, the warmth and softness of his lips, the slight rasp of the perpetual layer of stubble Draco seemed to have, because his blond hair was nearly invisible so he sometimes skipped shaving in the morning, while meanwhile Harry had a five o’clock shadow by lunchtime.

Then Draco’s fingers slipped back into his hair and Harry moaned.

“Ah-ah,” Draco said, breaking the kiss. “You’ve got to be quiet.” He stroked his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Can you do that? Can you be good for me?”

Harry went a little boneless in his seat. “Mm-hm.”

Draco leaned in close, the soft petals of the flower tucked behind his ear tickling Harry’s cheek, and he said, his voice very low and warm, “That’s my good boy,” before he kissed Harry again.

The damp tip of Draco’s cock poked at Harry’s stomach, and he reached down to give it a squeeze. Draco made a small breathy noise and batted Harry’s hand away, only to wriggle around until he could get his cock lined up against Harry’s. He moved slowly, pushing the hard length of his cock against Harry’s, and Harry quietly lost his mind. He loved this, feeling Draco so hard against him, and knowing that it was for him, it was all for him, and he was right where Draco wanted him to be, doing exactly what Draco wanted him to do. All he had to do was sit here and be good, and let Draco use him as he wished.

“Draco—” Harry sighed, and Draco kissed him again, swallowing anything else he might’ve tried to say.

Harry held him close, one hand holding Draco’s back, the other sliding down, giving his arse a squeeze before his fingers slipped between Draco’s arsecheeks and—

“You’re ready for me,” Harry said, blinking up at Draco. He worked his finger in a little deeper, finding Draco perfectly loose and slippery inside.

“Well, I sort of figured this would happen,” Draco said smugly. “And I thought I’d save us a bit of time.”

“You figured this would happen?” Harry echoed. “Like there was any chance it wouldn’t—Draco, you stripped off your trousers and practically jumped on my dick. This whole thing was your idea.”

“Well,” Draco shrugged. He didn’t look at all penitent.

“Figured this would happen,” Harry muttered, fumbling beneath Draco for his cock, holding it steady so Draco could get it in him.

He got himself lined up and gave a shallow thrust to push the head of his cock in, and then Draco pressed downward, taking Harry the rest of the way in one smooth motion.

“Oh,” he gasped, grimacing a little.

Harry rubbed at his back. “Too fast?” he asked. He didn’t mind Draco needing to take a moment; if Draco started fucking him right now, Harry thought he’d last about ten seconds.

“Yeah, I’d, oh. I got myself ready before dinner. Guess it was a little too early.” Draco’s eyes were squeezed shut and his breath came quick and shallow as he waited out the pain, waited for his body to adjust.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, even though it wasn’t at all his fault that Draco had tried to take him too quickly.

“Don’t you dare,” Draco said, eyes still closed. “You’re perfect. Don’t you dare apologize for anything.”

Harry kissed Draco’s jaw and reached for his cock, playing gently with the head until Draco’s breath had gone a different sort of shallow.

“Next time I’ll plan better,” Draco said, opening his eyes again. He gave Harry a slow smile. “Sneak off to the loo while you’re faffing about with dessert.”

“Next time we are having sex inside our house like normal people,” Harry told him. “We’re not making a habit of this.”

“We’ll see about that,” Draco said, and good god, he was probably taking this as a challenge. “Now be quiet or I’ll find a better use for your mouth.”

A little edge of contrariness rose up in Harry, and for an instant he was tempted to push Draco. But as much as Harry liked being made to suck Draco’s cock, he also really liked Draco riding him like this. Draco was so hard in Harry’s hand now, his cock flushed dark pink and leaking precome. He would be getting close soon, and Harry loved when Draco rode him like that, focused entirely on his own orgasm and just using Harry’s cock as a way to get himself there.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Draco was pressing the balls of his feet hard against the floor of the balcony, getting leverage to fuck himself hard on Harry’s cock. Harry loosely held onto his hips, more to feel him move than to try to guide him, and Draco’s head tipped back, his eyes slipping shut, and Harry couldn’t resist leaning in to press a quick kiss to his throat. He was beautiful, he was so beautiful, and this felt so good.

“Shh,” Draco said, letting his head tip forward again. “Hush, now. You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?”

Harry bit down on his lip and shook his head; he hadn’t even realized he was making noise. Draco shifted in his lap, and Harry couldn’t hold back a whimper as Draco rolled his hips, again and again. He dropped his head to Draco’s shoulder, and Draco rubbed at the exposed back of his neck. Harry shivered.

“It’s all right,” Draco murmured. “I’m nearly there. I need you to be good for me for just a little longer.”

“Okay,” Harry said, nodding against Draco’s shoulder.

Draco pushed down with his toes again, and Harry sat up straighter to watch him. Draco’s eyes were closed, his brows were furrowed, and his mouth was pink and wet, all slightly parted lips and the smallest peek of the tip of his tongue. Harry loved him like this, all of him turned inward, every part of him focused on chasing his own pleasure. His hands curled around Harry’s shoulders, and the hard muscles of his thighs tensed and released on every thrust. Harry rubbed his palms over them, soft pale skin and curling gold hair, and Draco’s legs hitched wider. He fucked himself harder on Harry’s cock, and the rose behind his ear went tumbling to the floor.

“D’you want…?” Harry asked, brushing his fingers over Draco’s cock.

“No, no,” Draco said. “No, I’ve—I’m good like this, I—oh fuck, here, I’m close, here.”

A bird twittered from somewhere on the rooftop above them, the quiet hum of a car engine rose and fell on the street below, and Draco came with a punched-out gasp and the dying sunlight lighting his hair rose-gold.

And in that moment, Harry was so desperately, blindingly in love that he didn’t even care that Draco had just got come all over his shirt.

“God,” Harry breathed. “You’re so beautiful.”

The smile Draco gave him was slow and sweet and a little sleepy. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, then shifted around in Harry’s lap.

Harry whined deep in his throat as his cock slipped out of Draco, the cool evening air an unpleasant shock after the tight warmth of Draco’s body. But Draco’s warm hand quickly replaced it, those long fingers of his gripping Harry firmly and wanking him in long, sure strokes. Harry bit back a cry as Draco worked him exactly the way he knew Harry liked best and it was only a minute before Harry came in long pulses in Draco’s hand, biting down on the tip of his tongue to keep from making any sound.

“Okay,” he said softly. “That was fantastic.”

“Of course it was. All my ideas are.” Draco kissed him quick, then wiped off his wet hand on Harry’s thigh.

“Thanks for that,” Harry said.

Draco only gave him a wink, slipped off his lap, and bent down to fetch his flower from the floor. He tucked it behind Harry’s ear this time, and Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t make any move to take it off. He stood up to take his trousers the rest of the way off—his cock was wet with lube and come, to say nothing of the sticky smear on his thigh, and there was no sense to make laundry more difficult for himself—and Draco snickered from behind him.

“What?”

“You’ve got a very lovely lattice pattern on your arse,” Draco said, then very helpfully pointed at the wrought iron seat of the chair. “From that.”

“Fuck you,” Harry muttered, then gave his own arse a slap. “C’mon, get your trousers and get inside so I can take these charms off.”

“Take down my wards too, please,” Draco murmured, kissing at his neck a little before he turned to retrieve his trousers from the ground.

Harry frowned at him. “Your what?”

“My wards,” Draco said, draping his trousers over his arm and brushing past Harry on his way inside. “I saw you setting this up from downstairs and I put up some privacy wards for us before I came up.”

Harry followed him in and shut the French door that led out to their balcony. “So no one could see or hear us the whole time we were out here?”

“Of course not. At the time I was only thinking that it’d be nice to not be interrupted during dinner. You know how Mrs Calloway likes to practically talk your ears off.” He cocked his head, peering curiously at Harry. “You really didn’t think it was odd that we were out here and she didn’t even say hello? Merlin, some Auror you’re going to be.”

Harry shrugged. He’d figured she saw that they were clearly having a romantic dinner together and hadn’t wanted to interrupt.

“It was loads of fun watching you try to stay quiet, though,” Draco said.

“Arsehole,” Harry said, and threw his pants at Draco’s head.

Laughing, Draco ducked out of the way, then picked them up from the floor and added them to his own bundle of clothing. “Shower?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” Harry said, and turned to take down Draco’s wards.

Draco vanished down the hall, and a moment later the light clicked on. Harry hesitated, wand in hand, then turned away without changing a thing. Smiling a little to himself, he went down the hall and joined Draco in the shower.


End file.
